Another Soldier
by MyPartnerInCrime
Summary: "I love you," said Blaine firmly, pulling back to cup his hands around Kurt's face. "I love you so much. And when I come back, I will marry you. I promise." Klaine Au.


**I'm not entirely sure where this came from. I think I was inspired by the Military Wives Choir in the Queen's Diamond Jubilee Concert...(anyone watch that?)**

**I have a very limited knowledge of military things in general, so probably not the best fic to randomly write...but oh well, I hope you like it. =)  
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_Title from the song 'Another Soldier' by The Feeling._**  
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**Disclaimer: Don't own Gleeee.  
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* * *

"Please, please don't go," whispered Kurt, clinging to the other man's chest.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry," croaked Blaine, tightening his hold on Kurt, burying his nose into Kurt's neck. "I have to."

"No, no, no," whimpered Kurt feebly, his tears creating a damp patch on Blaine's uniform.

"I love you," said Blaine firmly, pulling back to cup his hands around Kurt's face. "I love you _so_ much. And when I come back, I _will_ marry you. I promise."

* * *

Kurt Hummel stood outside the square building, staring at the pale pink sheet of paper taped to the door. His clammy hands were gripped tightly onto the strap of his shoulder bag as his heart beat loudly. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was not the perfectly styled coif it used to be, sticking up in random directions from where he had run his hand through it.

Taking a deep breath, he took a few shaky steps forward and opened the door.

Inside the building was a large hall, the windows letting in the bright sunshine from outside. A circle of plastic chairs had been set up in the middle, but no one was seated yet. Kurt saw a group of women stood in a group off to one side, some looking more at ease than others. Kurt noted a couple of them stood silently, shuffling their feet as they listened to the others.

"Hello, this is the Military Wives and Family meeting," introduced a kind looking woman, smiling broadly as she approached him. Kurt glanced at the group of women again, noting once more that there were no other men in the room.

"Err," Kurt swallowed. "I think I should...go..." He made a stumbling step backwards.

"Please stay," said the lady, smiling with large sympathetic eyes.

"I..." started Kurt, moving his mouth but not know what to say.

"Come and sit down, we're all here to support each other." The lady beckoned for him to follow her then walked into the centre of the circle of chairs. "Would everyone like to come and sit down?" she called clearly. The group of woman dispersed and each quietly found a chair to sit on. Kurt hesitantly moved forwards and sat on one of the hard chairs, hunching his shoulders as he felt everyone looking at him.

"Now this is the first meeting, so I thought it would be nice if we all went round and introduced ourselves," said the lady, clasping her hands together and sitting down in one of the chairs herself. "I'm Emma and my husband recently came home from fighting, he was away for just over a year and I'm so happy to have him back. But I know what it's like to be waiting, so I'm here to help." She then gestured to her left for the next person to go.

"I'm Tina...and my husband is fighting in Afghanistan," said a small Asian woman with a sad smile. Almost all the women had introduced themselves by the time it got to Kurt, talking about their husbands, fiancés and boyfriends.

"I'm..." Kurt coughed to clear his throat. "I'm Kurt...and my fiancé went away to fight two weeks ago." There were only a couple of sceptical looks, but mostly their eyes were just as sympathetic as they had been for everyone else. This reassured him slightly and he crossed his legs as the tension from his shoulders decreased a tiny bit.

* * *

As soon as the post flopped through the letter box and onto the door mat Kurt scooped them up, frantically throwing aside bills and advertisements until he reached a brown envelope with achingly familiar writing scrawled on the front.

He walked slowly to the kitchen, seating himself in one of the chairs with his fingers gripping the envelope tightly. With shaking fingers he tore it open, pulling out the neatly folded paper.

_Dear Kurt,_

The letter was long and detailed. Neither of them knew when the next time he would be able to write would be. Kurt read it through several times, tears making silent tracks down his pale cheeks. When he got to the end the third time he pressed his lips to the name at the bottom, his tear dampened mouth smudging the inky letters.

* * *

With the encouragement of Emma to spread the word, more people started appearing at the meetings. Not just partners, but children, parents and friends. Kurt was no longer the only male participant, and ended up making friends with many of the other people that regularly attended the meetings.

Sometimes the mood was sombre, but whatever the atmosphere, feelings could be shared and appreciated amongst the others.

It wasn't until a few weeks later that real tragedy struck.

"I'm afraid Quinn won't be returning to these meetings," stated Emma softly. "She received a letter yesterday informing her that her husband has been killed."

There was a dreadfully painful silence and a few people closed their eyes or held hands tightly with one another.

"She's moving back to live with her mother for a while, but she knows all our thoughts are with her."

After that meeting Kurt went home and buried himself into the bedclothes of the double bed he shared with Blaine. He hadn't been able to sleep in it since he left, but now he surrounded himself with Blaine's smell and wept.

It could happen to any of them.

* * *

"Are you alright, Kurt?" asked Tina with worry, placing a soft hand on his forehead.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but a raspy cough came out instead.

"You've probably caught some kind of bug, maybe you should go home early," suggested Tina.

"Okay," rasped Kurt, scrubbing at one of his eyes.

He left the meeting with waves from the others and made his way back home. To his empty house.

Kurt stumbled into the kitchen and clumsily filled the kettle with water and turned it on. He then grabbed a blanket and curled up on the sofa, drawing his shaking legs up to his chest. He lay there listening to the boiling of the kettle and the ragged gasps of his own breath, willing himself to feel more comfortable.

He heard the kettle click and he desperately wanted to get up and make himself the cup of tea that his sore throat and shivering body craved, but the dull quivering ache in his bones protested.

He opened his mouth to call feebly for Blaine, who would come and make him tea and bring him blankets and cuddles and soft words as he let Kurt rest his head on his lap.

But then he remembered.

Warm tears stung his eyes and his mouth gaped as he gasped in a sob. He needed Blaine to hug him and tell him it was going to be okay. He just needed Blaine.

* * *

Kurt was in the kitchen, half-heartedly taking small spoonfuls of a bowl of tepid porridge when the phone rang. He left the bowl to stand and walk over to it. He probably wouldn't finish it. He hardly ate anything these days.

"Hello?" he said dully into the phone.

"_Is this Mr. Kurt Hummel?_" came a man's voice.

"Yes, who may I ask is speaking?"

"_This is Doctor Turner from St. James' Hospital. I have news regarding a Mr. Blaine Anderson._"

Kurt nearly dropped the phone. Gripping it to his ear with both hands he breathed, "Is-is he okay?"

"_He's fine, sir. Well...he's alive._"

"Alive," whispered Kurt.

"_Yes. But I'm afraid he's not quite well enough to stay, so we're sending him home._"

"Home?" Kurt pressed his fingers to his mouth, his heart beating wildly.

"_Yes, sir,_" replied Doctor Turner, and Kurt could hear the smile in his voice. "_Right away._"

"Oh thank God," breathed Kurt, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. "Wait...what do you mean by 'not quite well enough'?"

"_He has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or 'Shell Shock'. It isn't _too_ severe, but I insisted he was no longer fit to stay_."

"Thank you," said Kurt, trying to pour every ounce of his gratitude into those two words. "Thank you, so much."

"_I wish I could do more_," sighed the doctor. "_But you must be aware that it might be hard to deal with sometimes. He will react badly to loud noises and most likely have frequent nightmares. He may also experience things such as loss of appetite and depression, but I will leave you with details of a therapist who can help._"

After discussing details and when Blaine's plane would land, Kurt hung up and sank to the floor, holding a hand to his heart.

* * *

There weren't many people at the airport, it being a Tuesday lunch time, and Kurt stood by the arrivals gate, drinking the last dregs of the coffee he had bought earlier, having arrived at least an hour early. He threw the empty paper cup into a bin and wrung his hands together, wide eyes alert on the doorway.

Every time the door opened Kurt braced himself, holding his breath until he saw that it wasn't Blaine.

"When will Daddy be here?" asked a little voice to his left. Kurt tore his eyes away from the arrivals gate to glance at the small family next to him. A mother and two daughters.

"Any minute now, honey," assured the mother. "Any minute now."

Kurt caught her eye and gave her a smile, although it probably looked slightly crazy. But the woman seemed to understand and returned the gesture.

"Look, Mummy! Look! I can see Daddy!" squealed the other little girl, pointing towards the doors where a small group of men, dressed identically in uniforms, walked through.

Kurt's brain went hazy, his eyes immediately scanning each of their faces until it landed on the one that he had been missing for months and months.

Before Kurt could fully register what he was doing, he was running.

Running, because what else mattered? What was more important than the man who was now _so close_.

He barrelled into Blaine, wrapping his arms immediately around his waist and holding on for dear life.

"Kurt," he said, his voice so full of relief and heartbreaking happiness.

Kurt pulled away, only to gently hold Blaine's face in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks as he took in every detail of the face he hadn't seen in so long. The straight nose, the thick eyebrows, the deep brown eyes. Kurt traced an angry red line, jutting across Blaine's cheekbone, just under his eye that was messily stitched together.

"You're hurt," whispered Kurt.

"It's nothing," replied Blaine, equally as quietly. He leant forwards to rest his forehead against Kurt's. "I've missed you."

Kurt gasped a joyful laugh, "I've missed you too." Then he tilted his head to press his lips to Blaine's, finally complete.

* * *

Kurt was awoken by a terrified scream. Kurt sat up quickly and tried to calm Blaine's jerking limbs.

"Blaine!" he called to him, trying to wake him. "Blaine, honey, wake up. Blaine!"

Blaine's eyes snapped open, wide and glassy. "No..."

"Hey, it's alright, it's me, Kurt," said Kurt, hushed. He reached out to cup Blaine's chin. "Listen to me, you're safe. You're safe."

"Kurt...I..." croaked Blaine, eyes finally focusing on him.

"Shh," cooed Kurt, gathering the shaking man in his arms. "It's alright." He pressed a kiss to the top of Blaine's head. "I love you. More than anything in the world."

"More than coffee?" asked Blaine, a small smile hitching up the corner of his mouth.

"More than coffee."

* * *

Sometimes it was hard. There were many nights where Kurt sang Blaine back to sleep, or simply held him until he stopped crying. The first time Burt, Carole and Finn had come to visit after Blaine had returned, Finn had accidentally knocked a stack of china plates to the floor and the joltingly loud crashes had sent Blaine into full blown panic. It had taken several long minutes to gently prise Blaine's fingers from his hair and to calm him down with soft words from Kurt.

But never had Kurt been more grateful to have Blaine in his arms. Physically _there_ to hug, to kiss, to love.

It was a year later, but Blaine _did_ marry Kurt. Just like he'd promised.

* * *

**I'm a little unsure about this, I'm sorry for any details I got wrong. =)  
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**Review...maybe?  
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